


trip out easy

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, this is Francesca's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: It turns out to be one of Francesca's better ideas.
Relationships: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Comments: 7
Kudos: 96





	trip out easy

**Author's Note:**

> (Possible warning: this fic contains limited mentions of having to perform sexual favors to get acting jobs. None of that happens on-camera.)

They're lounging in the living room, passing around a joint and telling secrets, when Francesca says, "You know, I had to give the casting director a blowjob to get my first talking role."

Rick giggles at that, even though he knows it probably wouldn't be funny if he wasn't high as a kite right now. He says, "Me too, honey," because he did blow one of the associate producers on _The Adventures of Kit Carson_ to get his first bit part. It's a hazy memory now; mostly he remembers being very nervous, and very embarrassed.

"That… I have not done," Cliff drawls from where he's stretched out on the floor. Brandy's next to him with her head on his thigh. Rick thinks the dog might be asleep, but she could just be very relaxed. He would probably also be very relaxed if he got to lie on the floor with his head on Cliff's thigh. 

Francesca waves her hand - the one not holding the joint - rather dramatically through the haze in the air. If he wasn't smoking, Rick figures he would be high just due to that. He wonders if dogs can get stoned. Cliff brought it over, said, "Don't give me that 'my booze don't need no buddy' line again, man; we're smoking this shit tonight," and that had been that. 

Francesca says, "If you want to have the experience, Rick is right here."

"I'm what?" He's not focusing all that well, and is now confused about what she's volunteered him for.

Cliff makes a loud and contemplative humming sound. "Brandy, couch," he says, pointing, and Brandy jumps up onto the sofa under one of the front windows and settles down. Rick realizes sort of distantly that no one sits on that particular piece of furniture except the dog. Cliff rolls up on his knees and shuffles over, putting his hands on Rick's thighs. 

Rick blinks down at Cliff's familiar face. "I think I, uh, missed what's happening now," he says. 

"Me. You. Blowjob," Cliff replies, enunciating each word.

"Really, after - after all these years?" Rick frowns, and Francesca starts laughing. 

Cliff's unbuckling his belt, the backs of his fingers skimming Rick's stomach. "Stop me now if you don't want to."

"Well, shit," Rick says, feeling like his brain is still several minutes behind. "Yeah, sure, let's fucking do this."

Cliff grins up at him. A nervous anticipation curls in Rick's belly and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Relax," Cliff murmurs, sliding his hand slowly up and down Rick's thigh. 

"I am. I am relaxed," Rick replies automatically.

Cliff's hands stop moving and he looks straight at Rick, all amusement dropping from his face. "If you don't want to, I'll stand up, go make us some drinks."

"Let's see what you've got," Rick says, hoping if he aims for bravado, Cliff won't catch the waver threatening his voice.

Cliff finishes with the buckle, then slips the inside button, and draws down the zipper of Rick's slacks. They're new, and the zipper glides easily. "Take another hit if you need it," Cliff suggests, and Rick thinks about it for a moment, before shaking his head no. He's relaxed enough, any more pot and he might embarrass himself; his nerves are only nerves because Cliff's been his best friend for ten years and he's never once been this close to Rick's cock.

"I'll put it out for now," Francesca says, after taking one more puff on the joint. She settles back on the couch, sitting cross-legged, watching them with interest. 

Rick wants to close his eyes, but Cliff must catch on, because he says, "What, don't want to watch?" as his fingers curl around Rick's cock. Rick twitches, hips moving involuntarily, and Cliff glances up with a smile. 

"Shit," Rick whispers. "You - I - _fuck_."

"You really never thought about it?" Cliff asks, the words lazy, and then he exhales hotly over the head of Rick's cock. 

Rick's thought about it, is the thing. Back when it was just him in the bed and it took at least four cocktails before he could sleep, he'd think about it. Think about Cliff peeling off all their clothes- piece by piece, those big hands - and getting into the bed with him. The fantasy was always a little hazy after that, it never took long for Rick to get himself off. 

Rick's so hot he can feel himself sweating through his shirt. Francesca says, "He likes it slow," and Cliff hums, "Slow, huh?", and Rick wonders if it's possible to have a heart attack just from someone talking about sucking dick. The answer is probably yes. The muscle of his jaw feels like it's jumping and that's probably a precursor.

Cliff opens his mouth and leans in. Rick tenses. "For fuck's sake, would you relax?" Cliff asks, looking up at him with his lips about an inch from the tip of Rick's cock. 

"I can't relax, you're - you're gonna -" is all Rick manages to say before Cliff does. 

Rick groans; he can't stop the sound from escaping. He's always enjoyed getting head - how does a guy not enjoy it, honestly? - and Cliff's mouth is not only warm and wet but bigger than a woman's mouth. He's dragging his tongue over Rick's cock now, tasting, his expression the one he makes when he's puzzling something out in his head. 

"Is it alright?" Francesca asks.

"Yes," Rick gasps, as Cliff swirls his tongue over the head. His hand comes up to curl loosely around the base of Rick's cock, his thumb stroking over the throbbing vein underneath. "Holy shit, Cliff."

He slides a little lower in the chair, spreading his knees further. Part of him wants to close his eyes and get lost in the sensation, while part of him wants to watch Cliff's well-worn and well-known face, intense in his concentration. Rick loosens the fists his fingers have clenched up into, touches the line of Cliff's jaw, and watches himself disappear into Cliff's mouth. He feels like sweat's starting to bead at his forehead and dampen the back of his neck. 

"Not that slow, maybe," Francesca says. Rick glances over to see her shifting on the sofa, her hand rubbing over her thigh. She meets his gaze and says, "I did not think it would be this sexy to watch."

Rick opens his mouth to say _try being on the receiving end_ but only groans as he actually pictures that, then groans again as Cliff speeds his hand a little. Rick slides his fingers through Cliff's hair. Like cornsilk, a thing he hasn't felt in years. His head is swimming. He has to close his eyes.

Cliff shifts slightly, then sucks on the head. Rick jolts, moaning. "Fuck, Cliff, that's…" He squirms, entirely and officially too hot in all his clothes now.

"Too much? Not enough?" Cliff's breath is a puff of air over Rick's overheated skin. "Am I supposed to swallow?"

"Men like it when you do," Francesca says, in a bored sort of tone, but then her breath hitches. 

Rick shakes his head, mostly to clear it enough to speak. "Whatever you want to do, Cliff, whatever's fine."

Cliff reapplies himself. Rick squeezes the arm of the chair so hard he feels his nails dig into the fabric. Christ, even his feet feel hot. There's a soft noise from the sofa that his mind registers as a sound Francesca makes during sex, and his jumbled brain manages to sort out that she's probably touching herself, but he doesn't think he can force his eyes open long enough to look. "Oh hell, Cliff, I'm gonna- goddamn-"

Cliff doesn't pull off. Rick's aware that his head is lolling back, and the hand he's got in Cliff's hair drops down onto his shoulder, gone limp as his mind jumps the track. The room seems to black out for a second. Then he feels Cliff pull back, hears him hum. "That wasn't- huh."

"Uh-huh," Rick sighs. He takes a deep breath. He feels sort of melted, or like his body's made of molasses. 

"Is he always like this after he gets off?" Cliff asks, presumably to Francesca.

"All the time."

"Hey," Rick protests, forcing his eyes to open, then to focus. Cliff's sitting back on his heels a little more, but he otherwise hasn't moved, and his hand is resting on Rick's thigh. "Oh. I should put the goods away, yeah."

"I got it," Cliff says, and gently returns Rick's soft cock to his briefs. Rick wipes a hand over his forehead; he hasn't really stopped sweating. "You always this disheveled?" Cliff asks, grinning up at him. Rick pretends to flop out in the chair, spent, in reply. Cliff laughs, his usual laugh, and then he rubs Rick's thigh slowly for a moment before getting to his feet. 

"You still got that joint, honey?" Rick asks. "Think Cliff here might need it."

Cliff steals Rick's glass from the table and takes a long drink, then sprawls out on the carpet again and holds his hand out towards Fran. "Pass it if you've got it, baby."


End file.
